


(Lack of) Common Sense

by nothingisreal



Category: The Beatles
Genre: Angst, Drunk Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-07-27 07:10:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7608634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingisreal/pseuds/nothingisreal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John was never one to listen to the common sense.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> English isn't my first language. No beta.  
> I wrote this about a year ago.

_ Stop it right now! – before it’s too late. _

Paul’s hands were clenched on his leather jacket. He was pulling John towards him, making him have to brace his hands on the wall next to Paul’s head. 

_ He’s drunk! He doesn’t realise what he’s doing! _

Paul’s lips were on his and all John could taste was the alcohol. It made him wonder just how pissed his friend actually was.

_ He’ll hate you if you let it go on! _

John had his knee between Paul’s thighs and his tongue in Paul’s mouth. One of the guitarist’s hands loosened its grip on John’s jacket and took hold of his hair instead. The other slid down his back and onto his arse.

_ You were fighting just minutes ago! What’s happened? _

John pushed his hand between them in order to squeeze Paul’s erection through his trousers. His friend moaned wantonly, grinding his crotch into John’s hand and hips.

_ Why haven’t you put a stop to it yet? He’s your friend! _

John’s trousers felt unbelievably tight. Somehow, Paul managed to get John even closer to him. John was running his fingers through Paul’s hair, marvelling at how soft it was. 

_ You’re in an alleyway – what if somebody sees?  _

John closed his eyes and tried to shut down his mind. He didn’t want to think about what any of this meant. And he certainly didn’t want to think about the consequences. All that mattered in that moment was Paul.

John pushed Paul into the wall, his fingers fumbling for the zip on his friend’s trousers. Before he had time to think this through, he was falling to his knees until his face was levelled with Paul’s hard-on. John licked his lips in anticipation. He didn’t want to give himself time to feel nervous, so he just dived right in and licked the tip of Paul’s cock. It tasted salty, surprisingly familiar and not all that different from a girl. The guitarist took a deep breath and slowly took the head into his mouth. The sounds Paul was making above him spurred him on and he didn’t even hesitate before lowering his head until he could feel the tip of Paul’s dick hit the back of his throat. Paul bucked his hips sharply, almost gagging John. 

“Sorry.”

John hummed around his cock to let him know he had heard. However, he hadn’t foreseen the effect it would have on Paul, who groaned loudly and started coming down his throat embarrassingly soon. John swallowed all he could, the rest of it running down his chin.

He unzipped his trousers hurriedly and shoved his hand in, fisting his erection. He looked up to see Paul looking at him with dark eyes, his lips open and swollen from the kissing. John couldn’t stop himself imagining what it would be like to have Paul’s mouth on him and then he was coming, biting his lip so hard he drew blood to keep himself from screaming. 

“Fuck.” He gasped, forcing himself to get up. He did up his trousers and made a vague gesture towards Paul, not quite knowing what he wanted to do. Finally, he opted for putting his hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Want me to take you home?” 

Paul looked at him blankly as if trying to process what he’d just heard. Then he shook his head slowly. “No. No, I’m fine.”

John looked at him uncertainly and opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted.

“There you two are! We’ve been looking for you!” 

_ That was close!  _ **_Too close!_ ** _ What would have happened, had they come here earlier? _

Never before had John felt such a strong urge to strangle his other bandmates. It must have somehow showed in his face, because he noticed Stu looking at him questioningly. 

“Come on, Paulie. We’re going home.” George took a firm hold of Paul’s shoulder and pulled him in the general direction of a bus stop. John could hear him raving about guitars and that bird that gave him her number. 

As soon as the two disappeared, Stu almost ran towards John. “What was that about?” He asked in a hushed whisper, as if afraid someone might hear them.

John shrugged, feeling irritation build up inside him. “None of your business.” Sure, he could pretend he had no idea what Stu was talking about, but he saw no point in lying to him.

_ What if he remembers it tomorrow? _

“Fuck,” John swore under his breath. “Let’s go back.”

“Sure.”

_ Why did you do it? Are you queer now? _

“Oh, fuck off!”

“I didn’t say anything!” Protested a very surprised Stu.

“I wasn’t talking to you.” And ignoring his friend’s puzzled expression he quickened his pace, wishing he could stop thinking about Paul. He had a feeling it might all blow up in his face. But there was nothing left for him but to wait and see how much of what had happened Paul would remember after he sobered up.


	2. Chapter 2

_ You took advantage. _

John turned on his other side and shoved a pillow over his head as if that would somehow help quiet down the annoying voice in his head.

_ You’ve always liked him a bit too much. Are you sure you’re not queer? _

John kicked the duvet lower until it was covering only his knees. His T-shirt was soaked with sweat and sticking to his torso, despite the temperature outside barely going above 15 during the day and the ever present icy wind.

_ Same as Stu. Do you fancy him as well? _

He felt feverish, although it might have been the lack of sleep. He’d been lying there for at least four hours. He was beginning to hate everything - the open window which failed to help him feel cooler, the mattress that was becoming more and more uncomfortable with every passing second, the T-shirt which by this point was irritating him more than he could say but he still refused to take it off, and, most of all, his mind. It was hardly the first time he’d been kept up by his thoughts but it wasn’t one of those things you could build resistance to. It was just as distressing as ever.

_ What would people say? What would  _ **_Mimi_ ** _ say? _

John groaned into the mattress. He wanted to slam his head against the floor. He heard the door behind him open and close.

“John? Are you okay?” The concern in Stu’s voice made John want to cry, which in turn pissed him off.

“Sod off.” He mumbled with the pillow still on his face. He heard approaching footsteps and then Stu was kneeling beside him, his palm on his forehead. 

“You feel warm. Do you-”

“I’m not sick.” Exclaimed John louder than was necessary, throwing the pillow away forcefully.

Stu raised an eyebrow. “Of course not.” He said as dispassionately as he always did when he wanted to avoid John blowing up. “So what is it then?”

“I can’t sleep.” He ran his hands down his face.

“What’s keeping you up?” Stu asked without missing a beat. 

_ Nothing you can hide from him. He knows you too well. _

John glared at him through his fingers. Sometimes he got the impression Stu could somehow read his mind. “You’re really annoying, you know that?” He asked but there wasn’t any bite behind it. Stu just smiled at him and shrugged. 

Stu spoke again after John failed to answer his question after several minutes. “Does it-” He hesitated. “Does it have anything to do with what happened earlier?”

John widened his eyes, all muscles in his body going rigid. “What happened earlier?” He asked flatly but his tone was slightly higher than usually.

“I’m not sure.” Admitted Stu. “But something did.”

_ See? He’ll figure it out and then everyone will know. _

John closed his eyes and exhaled. He was exhausted and didn’t have any strength left to be angry. “Let it go.” He begged Stu.

“Did you have a row with Paul?”

John shook his head. “Stu…”

“Well, it must have been Paul. You wouldn’t be torturing yourself over someone else.”

_ It’s so obvious to anyone who looks that you’re in love with him. _

“I’m not-” John stopped himself just in time, his eyes wide.

Stu tilted his head. “You’re not…  _ what _ ? Not torturing yourself? ‘Cause it sure looks like it.”

“This isn’t something I can tell you!” John exploded, sitting up straight. “I just can’t!”

Stu’s face remained the perfect definition of emotionlessness. “You  _ can’t _ or you  _ won’t _ ?”

John swallowed and sighed, his shoulders sagging. 

_ You’re beginning to open up. You know how  _ **_that_ ** _ always ends! _

“Does it matter?”

“Looks like it matters to you.”

_ He cares about you so much. Are you sure you’re just friends? Men don’t do such things! _

“Jesus Christ.” John moaned. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his forehead against them. “I can’t stand it anymore.” 

He wanted to cry. He wanted someone ( _ Your mum. _ ) to hug him and tell him it was going to be okay. Such meaningless promises and yet John always found immense comfort in them. Maybe because it was so rarely that anyone even bothered to comfort him in the first place.

He choked on a sob and immediately there was a tentative hand on his back. “John?”

_ Real men don’t cry. Especially not in front of their friends. And they don’t need others to comfort them. _

Stu moved his palm across John’s back to his shoulder, slowly, as if he was expecting him to spook. When John only leaned more into the contact, Stu moved from where he was still kneeling on the floor to the mattress beside John, and put his other arm around him. John ignored his brain screaming at him ( _ What are you doing?! _ ) and let himself slump against Stu’s chest and just cry. He was only vaguely aware of Stu running his hands up and down his back and whispering soothingly (“It’s okay, Johnny. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”).

“Stu?” John rasped out when he managed to calm down a bit. He put his hands on Stu’s shoulders and pushed him away but only enough so that he could look at him. “I did something awful.”

Surprise flickered across Stu’s features but he composed himself quickly. “What?”

John bit his lip. “You can’t- You’ve gotta promise. Nobody can find out about it.  _ No one _ .”

Stu nodded quickly. “Of course. John, what’s happened?”

“I kissed Paul.” 

_ Coward! You can’t even tell the truth. The  _ **_whole_ ** _ truth! _

“Is that why you’re having a nervous breakdown at two thirty in the morning?” Stu asked, the surprise and disbelief apparent in his voice. “I mean, it’s not like-”

“That’s not all.” John said quickly before whatever courage he had managed to find could escape. “I… I w-w-went down on him.” He closed his eyes and waited for… he wasn’t quite sure what exactly he was waiting for. A punch? Laughter? Anger?

Whatever it was, he didn’t get it.

“Okay.” Stu said simply.

“Okay?! Are you insane?” John moved away from Stu to the other side of the mattress where he could lean against the wall. “He was drunk out of his mind. And I took advantage of that. How is that okay?”

“I don’t know.” Admitted Stu. “I don’t know him as well as you do. What are you so afraid of?”

John had to pause and think at that.

_ He’ll hate you. He’ll leave, you’ll never see him again. He’ll tell someone. He’ll tell the police. _

“John? You’ve gone white as a sheet.” 

John looked at him startled. He’d forgotten he wasn’t alone. “What if-?” He stopped himself, too scared to say what he was thinking as if talking about it would make it come true.

Stu sighed and kicked off his boots so that he could sit on the mattress cross-legged, facing John fully. “Look, whatever you’re thinking, I might not know him, but I do know that you’re his best friend. So if you’re thinking something idiotic like him telling the police, you’re doing him injustice. And it’s  _ me _ saying that.” He grinned at the last sentence. 

John smiled weakly. 

“Now, I have this crazy idea.” Stu said, smirking at John, his voice teasing. “How about you get some sleep and put off the worrying until later tonight? You’ll have to see him at the gig. You’ll see how he reacts. Or if he even remembers anything at all.”

John nodded. “But I can’t sleep.”

“Count sheep. Or do you want me to sing you a lullaby?” He asked with a grin.

“Sheep it is.” John grinned back. He retrieved his pillow from the floor and settled back on the bed, the duvet up to his waist, his back to Stu. He could hear the other man moving around the room, closing the window and moving his boots closer to the door. “Hey, Stu?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Thanks.”

“Sure.” There was the sound John knew to be Stu taking off his jacket and jeans, getting ready for bed.

“But if you ever tell anyone, I  _ will _ strangle you.” 

Stu  _ giggled _ . “Understood. Now, budge up.”

John stared at him.

“What? I’m cold.” He smirked.

John shook his head but obliged. He knew Stu was doing this to make sure he was alright but he didn’t mind. Quite the opposite, it made his chest feel tight, knowing that someone really cared about him. Though, obviously, he’d never say it out loud. But for now, he was too tired to fight with anyone, least of all himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me 11 months but this time I have a good excuse. I accidentally deleted all my fics from my computer. All of them. But now I'm finally picking up steam again. Also, it might be a good thing because I like this version better than anything I managed to sweat out earlier. They were truly awful and just didn't want to be written.


	3. Chapter 3

He was going to be sick. His heart was pounding and his chest was so tight he couldn’t catch his breath. He was sweating again, his palms wet and droplets running down his face even though he _knew_ it was cold. Maybe he did have a fever after all.

_You can still leave. Go somewhere far away and never come back._

He shook his head and splashed some cold water from the tap on his face. The bathroom was still empty, the club had only been open for twenty minutes. He and Stu were the first to arrive and immediately John locked himself in here and refused to come out. Well, okay, not locked, there was no lock on the door.

_Are you sure you’re ready to face him? Will he even show up? Maybe he’ll just quit the band._

“John, are you gonna spend the whole evening here?” Stu closed the door behind himself and leaned against the doorframe.

“Yes.” John said, almost cringing when he realised how much like a petulant child he sounded. He stopped himself from crossing his arms and pouting.

Stu shook his head at him. “You don’t look well.”

“I don’t _feel_ well either.” He braced his hands on the sink. And let his his head hang down between his arms.

Stu came up to him and put a palm on his forehead, same as he had done earlier. “And you still feel warm.” He fished in his pockets for something.

“Look, I should just-”

“Here.” Stu handed John a pill.

“What is it?” John asked, examining it suspiciously.

“Some aspirin. We don’t want you coming down with the flu. Or passing it on to me.” He added with a smirk.

John took the pill and swallowed it dry. “Do you always carry some aspirin around with you?”

Stu laughed. “Only when my friends don’t feel well.” John’s stomach twisted. “Now, come on.” Stu gripped his arm and almost dragged him out of the bathroom. His task was made easier by the fact that John was still absorbing the information.

_Is this what it feels like when someone else takes care of you? Is that what you’ve been missing out on your whole life?_

Okay, so maybe that was a bit unfair. He knew that Mimi did care about him. It was just that she had a very unorthodox way of showing it. She rarely hugged him or told him she loved him. She just wasn’t what you could unironically describe as a warm and open person.

John was so distracted he completely forgot his anxiety. Until he walked into the small backroom where they always waited for their turn to go onstage. Paul was sitting on the worn-out couch, his head in his hands. George was laughing across from him, cigarette in hand.

“Never again.” Moaned Paul which prompted a new fit of laughter from George.

_Does he know? Has Paul said something?_

“Hey!” The guitarist protested when John unceremoniously grabbed the cigarette from between his finger.

“Shut up. I need it more than you do.”

George raised an eyebrow but then just shrugged, apparently deciding that trying to understand John was too much of an effort.

“Two minutes.” Pete said, shoving his head into the room. “Let’s go.”

Paul made a noise reminiscent of a wounded animal but obediently got up and followed Pete outside without as much as glancing at John.

_He can’t even look at you. You’ve fucked up._

“Kill me.” Paul whispered to George who just slapped him on the back prompting another unhappy groan from him. “I hate you.”

“Maybe I should give him some aspirin as well.” Muttered Stu with a small chuckle. “On second thoughts, it’s his own fault. Come on, Johnny. We’re playing.”

The whole gig was hell. John’s head was pounding and his throat began to burn halfway through the first song and on top of that the apprehension of what would happen was killing him. He could no longer tell whether what he was feeling was due to anxiety or genuine flu. He decided they fueled each other and forced himself to stop thinking at least for the next thirty minutes.

“Let’s get you home.” Stu’s arm was around him as soon as they put their instruments down.

John nodded but then his gaze fell on Paul and he shook his head. “Five minutes?” He asked Stuart. He didn’t think he was capable of staying upright for much longer.

“But I’m not carrying you home.” Warned Stu but there was a fond smile on his face.

“Duly noted.”

_You could just leave. You don’t have to talk. Just follow Stuart outside and go home._

“Paul? Can we talk?” John asked, his voice quiet, timid.

Paul nodded towards the door leading to an alley behind the club.The very same alley in which John took advantage of him no more than twenty-four hours earlier.

_He’s gonna punch you and then leave you here._

“I’m sorry.” John spat out as soon as the door had closed behind them.

Paul looked at him quizzically. “What? Why?”

“Yesterday… I…” It didn’t happen often but he was at loss for words.

“Ugh… don’t even _mention_ yesterday.”

John could have sworn his heart stopped beating. “Why?” He asked, hoping his tone didn’t give away how much he was actually panicking.

“I feel like shit. And I can’t even remember why.” He furrowed his brows in thought. “I mean, I do remember the first two beers and drinking vodka from the bottle but after that…” He made a cutting motion with his hands and laughed.

“Right.” John coughed. “I-I should go. Stuart’s waiting for me.”

"Didn't you want to talk about something?" 

John shook his head and smiled at Paul tightly. "It's... it's not important."

“Alright." Paul said slowly, probably trying to decide whether he should push or just leave it. Finally, he shrugged and smiled at John. "I’ll go find George then. See you in on Wednesday.”

“See you.” John said to the closed door.

_You didn’t tell him what happened. You didn’t explain. You lied. Why do you think you deserve to be his best friend?_

“I don’t.” John kicked a small pebble and watched it roll down the alley before stopping at the wall. His headache had got worse and he could feel his sinuses clog. And the guilt that was suffocating him didn’t make his nausea any better.

“I’m confiscating your blanket tonight.” He announced as soon as he was within Stu’s earshot. “And I want a hot bath. And some pills.”

“Do you want some chicken soup as well?” Stu asked with a barely-contained smile.

John gave him a dirty look. “As a matter of fact, yes. And you can make tea while you’re at it.”

Stu laughed and slung an arm around John’s shoulders. “Blanket, bath, soup, and tea. And pills. Right. And what do I get out of it?”

“I’ll consider letting you snuggle with me so you don’t have to sleep without a blanket.”

Stu laughed. “And as a bonus, you’ll have a human radiator to keep you warm.”

“That too.” John smiled weakly. He’d feel guilty about not telling Paul the truth, he knew that. But maybe he was better off not knowing? And maybe, just maybe, if John told himself that long enough, he’d be able to believe in it himself. “Stu? If we had sex and you didn’t remember, would you want me to tell you?”

Stu snickered. “If I didn’t remember, it couldn’t have been very good.”

John dug his fingers into Stuart’s side who quickly squirmed away giggling. “Wanker.”

“I’m not sure. Assuming it wouldn’t change anything between us, I wouldn’t care either way.”

“You’re such a bird.” Said John but he was smiling.

“Stop feeling guilty. If you think you should tell him, do it.” Stu shrugged. “But if you think you can manage to act as if nothing had happened, then maybe it’d be better not to say anything.”

John bit his lip and nodded. He could do this. He would be Paul’s best friend and they would talk about music and birds and everything would be just as it had been before. It should’ve been a calming thought but John’s heart tightened. Friends. That was what they were ever going to be. He had to get it into his head and stop hoping for the impossible.

And maybe, if he was lucky, it wouldn’t end in a disaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not fully pleased with it and I don't know why. It's supposed to be the last part but I might add something more later on. I don't think I will and I don't plan to but I might if I decide it feels unfinished. Which it kind of does.


End file.
